


Gifts

by fypical



Series: The Sabriel Week Snippets [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Wingfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-01
Updated: 2012-04-01
Packaged: 2017-11-02 21:20:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/373454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fypical/pseuds/fypical
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They're blue, and Sam wants to touch them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Gifts

**Author's Note:**

> Shameless shameless wing porn. Written for Sabriel Week, prompt word "diaphanous". (This is within the universe of a Tumblr RP group I'm part of; if there are details that are obscure and/or weird, it's because they're past events in that universe)

They’re blue, and Sam wants to touch them. He’s seen the other set of wings, the ones that suffered no damage over the years, that lit up Becky Rosen’s living room brighter than any light, but he wants to touch these blue ones.

He looks at Gabriel, who’s resting his chin on Sam’s chest, eyes half-lidded and breathing calm, and pushes a hand through Gabriel’s hair instead. But Gabriel obviously knows what Sam wants, so he nods and pulls at Sam’s wrist, dragging it back past his hair to where not-quite-feathers – they _look_ like feathers, but Sam’s sure they’re not really – disrupt the air.

Gabriel shudders when Sam touches his wings, shakes almost all the way off of Sam’s chest, where he’d settled contentedly for a while, before Sam’s curiosity had gotten the better of him and he’d pushed his fingers through the feathers again.

They’re soft and smooth, but when Sam touches them, it’s like touching livewire in the best possible way – his hands tingle with some unknown current, and the more he touches, the deeper it goes down, past his bones and blood and into the very middle of him. He traces over the top of Gabriel’s left wing, anchoring the archangel with his hand on Gabriel’s lower back, and Gabriel makes a sort of strangled noise and presses his forehead against Sam’s neck, breathing hard. For a being that’s been around since before the Earth, this is new to him; of course he’s had his wings groomed before, but not like this. Not soft strokes, or gentle tugs, not with the sole intention of bringing pleasure, and never before on the tangible plane of Earth.

He inhales harshly, shakily, and Sam’s hands still for a moment before gently shoving at Gabriel’s shoulders now, off of Sam’s chest and onto the bed, where Gabriel flops onto his front, breathes once, slow and deep, before resting his head on his arms on the pillows and extending his wings as much as he can.

Sam shifts, clambers, sits above him, towering, straddling Gabriel’s lower back and breathing slowly, softly.

Then the tips of Sam’s fingers brush just the tops of Gabriel’s wings, where the marginal coverts would be on birds – _are_ on Gabriel’s wings? Sam doesn’t know – and Gabriel stops breathing altogether for a moment, hands clutching and flexing at the pillows and skin under them, and Gabriel maybe needs to feel something other than the overwhelming sensation of Sam’s hands on his wings, so maybe he digs the short nails of his vessel into his forearm, hard, and inhales sharply enough that the lungs he doesn’t need stab and burn, and then he can speak again, muffled by his arms and the pillows, but not silent.

The first word that he says (and it’s like learning Earth-language all over again) is a very strained “ _Sam_ ,” and Sam hums, spreading his arms as he leans down to press a kiss to Gabriel’s hair, and pushing his fingers through the long feathers of the wings’ secondaries. And Gabriel only notices when Sam moves that he, Gabriel, is rocking his hips involuntarily into the mattress, and the second thing he says isn’t a word at all, but a somewhat astonished noise at the carelessness of his own self, and Sam laughs in Gabriel’s ear and sits back.

Gabriel sighs in disappointment and shivers, and Sam takes his hands from Gabriel’s wings, and climbs and clambers away, until he manages to finagle a spot under Gabriel’s left wing, and Gabriel hooks one leg over both of Sam’s as he shifts to face the hunter (folding his right wing at an angle that should defy the laws of physics but does not). Sam frowns at their position, having apparently forgotten that he’d been the one to make the change.

“Are you okay?” he asks, a tentative hand at Gabriel’s jaw, “Like this?”

Gabriel laughs, and it’s brighter and less human than normal, and Sam raises his eyebrows in surprise.

“I’d be better if you kept touching me,” Gabriel admits, moving his left hand to Sam’s shoulder, right at the joint, and pressing gently. It’s a strange feeling; not pain, exactly, just pressure. Like the feeling of Gabriel masking Sam’s soul, but more local. Sam sighs, because Gabriel is strange at the best of times, and even stranger when he’s not thinking clearly – times like now, where his body doesn’t even need to be reacting, but his pupils are blown wide and he is breathing shallow and fast.

“Can you lie on your back?” Sam asks quietly, and Gabriel stares back, confused. “I mean, will it—your wings,” he ineloquently elaborates. Then, “I want to see you.”

Gabriel huffs out a breath and Sam almost gives up on the idea, but then Gabriel shifts and his wings bend in ways they shouldn’t be able to (and one of them hits Sam in the face in a suspiciously not-accidental way). And then it’s Sam, who has to move, and he does, and Gabriel lies on his back, looking somewhat uncomfortable and impatient.

Sam drags his hand through the feathers on the underside of Gabriel’s left wing, pressing it slightly against the bed, and Gabriel lets out a whine that’s a little too high-pitched and sharp to be human. Sam pauses, except Gabriel can tell from the look on his face that it’s not out of uncertainty as much as it is that Sam’s teasing him, and that’s…hotter than Gabriel expected something so frustrating to be. Gabriel gets ahold of himself long enough to pull impatiently at Sam’s shirt, tugging it up as far as he can before Sam sits back and pulls it the rest of the way off, and yes, that’s better, the playing field is slightly more even now.

Gabriel leans up slightly, and Sam meets him halfway, Gabriel’s teeth scraping along Sam’s collarbone, and honestly? Sam’s more turned on than he thought he’d be. Not that he was expecting to be totally uninterested, especially not with the broken little noise Gabriel makes as Sam reaches under his back to find the place where wing meets skin and drag his fingers over it. It’s a little awkward – Gabriel’s got a hand around the back of Sam’s neck, fingers digging sharply against the ridge of his spine, because Sam’s sitting on him and leverage isn’t exactly easy to get when there’s a giant on your hips. Sam, for his part, has one hand curled around the base of Gabriel’s wing, and the other is trying to find its way between them, aiming for one pair of jeans or the other; he’s not thinking clearly enough to be picky.

“You have,” Gabriel growls against Sam’s mouth, “way more faith in my patience than you should,” which is the most he’s said since they started this…whatever it is. Obviously, it’s going into sex territory, but it’s something else too; something important, and Sam feels like he should be moving slower, savoring whatever it is this means.

“Stop _thinking_ ,” Gabriel hisses, dragging his free hand hard enough over Sam’s ribs that it doesn’t tickle like Sam expected it to. And then, “Hang on, relocating,” and yeah, that’s probably a good idea, because they still have _clothes_ on, and the lights are flickering, and Sam could go without the knowing looks from both Dean and Castiel if (when, inevitably) Gabriel shorted out every light in the house.

The motion Gabriel makes, against the back of Sam’s neck, might vaguely resemble a snap, but Sam’s fairly sure it doesn’t at all; he supposes it’s the intention that counts, and count it does because they’re definitely not in Dean and Castiel’s guest room anymore. Sam’s not sure they’re in the town anymore, but he’s too focused on trying to stand on embarrassingly shaky legs to really think too much about how nice wherever Gabriel’s taken them looks.

It’s certainly bigger than the guest room, and Gabriel lets out a noise of satisfaction that he’ll deny later, finally able to actually stretch his wings out; it gets Sam’s attention, and Gabriel takes advantage of how distracted Sam is to all but tackle him onto the bed and crawl all over him. Sam laughs until Gabriel finds his jaw, and drags his almost-too-sharp teeth over it, making it to Sam’s mouth in time to muffle the gasp it elicits with his own mouth.

Sam’s hands are at Gabriel’s jeans again, and Gabriel swats them away, waving his hand vaguely again, and— _oh_. Well, that’s one way to go about it, and it’s not like Sam’s surprised, because it’s not the first time Gabriel’s gotten too impatient for the normal way of undressing. And Gabriel’s moving, rocking his hips against Sam’s, and pulling at his hands until Sam puts them back on Gabriel’s wings, at which point Gabriel gasps and drops his head onto Sam’s shoulder with such force Sam thinks it’ll probably leave a bruise.

Sam’s breathless laughter vibrates through both of them and Gabriel makes a helpless little noise into Sam’s collarbone, but it’s the long, drawn-out crash outside that makes Sam raise an eyebrow – not that Gabriel can see, but he’s probably just as aware of it as Sam is, because he groans in what sounds like exasperation and then turns his head so his nose is pressed against Sam’s jaw.

“Might’ve been a car,” he mumbles distractedly, moving sharply against Sam again, and Sam only barely stifles a shout, which makes Gabriel grin and bite at the underside of Sam’s jaw. Sam tugs a little harder at Gabriel’s wings in retaliation and Gabriel muffles a moan in Sam’s neck and grinds down hard.

Gabriel mumbles something that sounds vaguely familiar to Sam, but it’s harder to distinguish the strange syllables of Enochian when they’re being breathed into his neck instead of his ear.

“I _said_ ,” Gabriel growls, raising his head and eyeing Sam darkly, “hurry up and fuck me.”

“No you didn’t,” Sam replies, but it doesn’t matter because Gabriel’s shifting and pressing back, insistent and somehow ready; he laughs lowly when Sam shoots him a look.

“I’m helpful like that,” he murmurs, and Sam gives up on not-really-trying to protest and flips them – thankful that Gabriel’s faster than he is, as the wings whirl around and flatten just before Gabriel’s back hits the bed and he grins – and pushes in, one hand by Gabriel’s head, the other stroking over a wing.

Gabriel makes a little hitching noise that almost hurts his vessel’s lungs, and arches sharply, fingers digging into Sam’s shoulder and neck, and Sam’s moving _way_ too slowly, breathing in little huffs over Gabriel’s skin.

“Just so you know,” Gabriel breathes, “your definition of hurry up is—” but Sam is moving, bearing down on him and pushing deeper, harder, and Gabriel cuts himself off with a groan when Sam twists his fingers in the feathers because it’s just this side of painful but _so good_.

“Okay, or that,” he gasps out, and Sam kisses his neck, and Gabriel must be _really_ far gone if even that makes him gasp and arch his back almost too much to be natural.

“I’ve got you,” Sam murmurs even if his hand is brushing over Gabriel’s wing now, and he’s moving slower than he thought was going to be possible, because really— this is _really_ hot. Gabriel nods and kind of stops moving, even if his hips are still rocking up slightly into Sam’s.

Sam takes his time with it, because this _is_ big – even if Gabriel wasn’t gazing up at him almost worshipfully, he’d be able to tell that this is way beyond sex – and he wants to make the most of it. He moves slowly, stroking almost soothingly over Gabriel’s wing, murmuring quiet reassurances when Gabriel makes a strange little hitching noise and his feathers ruffle of their own accord.

Gabriel is moving again, his wings shifting and his body shaking slightly, even if the fingers moving over the back of Sam’s neck are strangely rhythmic; he’s lost almost all sense of himself, except for a vague notion that he really needs to keep control. He pushes his wing into Sam’s hand insistently, and Sam takes it as the demand it is to move faster. So he does, going from slow and insistent to hard and fast almost immediately because he knows Gabriel can and apparently wants to take it.

Sam’s closer than he expected, but when he tries to say something, Gabriel hisses, kisses him surprisingly gently and tugs gently on Sam’s hair. Sam groans and dots kisses and bites along Gabriel’s jaw, his neck, his collarbone, dragging his fingers through the hot-cold-electric feathers and feeling their strange energy wash over him.

Gabriel is speaking a language Sam doesn’t fully understand yet, but the words sound like warnings and pleas, and Gabriel presses their foreheads together hard, even as his hand leaves Sam’s back and slides over his eyes, staying fast no matter how much Sam tries to dislodge it—

And then Gabriel gasps, and Sam can see the light even through his closed eyes and Gabriel’s hand, firm and overheated, and Sam is blindsided by white-light-heat, so intense it careens him over the edge – he might shout but he isn’t sure of anything other than brightness and overwhelming sensation, and then…

“Your nose is in my wing.”

Sam groans weakly and lifts his head, meeting Gabriel’s actually tired-looking amber eyes; Gabriel drags a slow hand through Sam’s hair, and Sam notices that Gabriel’s wings have gone totally limp, spread out all over the room.

“Sorry,” Sam mumbles quietly, and Gabriel smiles like Sam’s apology is amusing, which, actually, it kind of is, considering.

Gabriel sighs, a little disappointed, when Sam pulls out and goes to lie next to Gabriel but looks somewhat confused as to the logistics of it. Gabriel shifts, lifts his wing slightly, winces at the effort it takes to motivate the limb into motion, and pats the bed.

Sam eyes the wing dubiously, and Gabriel sighs again. “You’re not going to break it,” he insists, and Sam very carefully lies down, resting his head against the feathers, and the wing immediately wraps around him like a blanket.

Gabriel grins when Sam looks at him questioningly, and much less gracefully drags the other wing up and over, half-flopping it over Sam’s hip – it really covers something more like most of his lower body, but whatever.

Sam kisses Gabriel soft and slow, and Gabriel smiles into the kiss, tangles one of his legs with Sam’s legs, and mirrors his wing’s actions with his arms, tucking in close to Sam.

“I think,” he murmurs, “we should do that more often.”

Sam opens his mouth to agree, but yawns unexpectedly instead. Gabriel laughs terribly fondly and kisses his nose.

“Go to sleep,” he breathes, and Sam closes his eyes, relaxes into the strange and warm tangle of limbs and wings.


End file.
